


Touch of Rue

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Alexander Trilogy - Mary Renault
Genre: Birthday, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-06
Updated: 2005-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><cite>In a nomad camp near the border, he had turned nineteen.</cite> ~<i>Fire from Heaven</i>, Mary Renault</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch of Rue

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Sara and hossgal for giving it a quick once-over.

_In a nomad camp near the border, he had turned nineteen._ ~ _Fire from Heaven_ , Mary Renault

They drank to him, the wine thin and sour, already turned and nothing to sweeten it with. He let them -- there was nothing to be gained from harsh words, though he cared not to be reminded of this day of all days, the day the gods gave his father a son.

His father.

His mouth twisted in anger and he set the cup down, heedless as it spilled the sour wine into the ground. He walked away from the fire around which they sat -- the night was warm, no need for it, except for light and food, and a place to sit around while telling tales.

All they had done here was tell tales, and he had no stomach for it tonight.

He wandered a bit, picking his way carefully over roots and around hidden holes in the ground, the smell of loam and leaf after the afternoon rain soothing him slightly.

"They mean well," Hephaistion said.

He didn't turn. "I know."

A hand on his shoulder, warm and sure. He didn't let himself lean into it, though he wanted to. Because he wanted to.

"I have no gift for you this year."

He laughed bitterly. "That's good, for I've nothing to give you in return."

Hephaistion's fingers tightened and then relaxed slowly, a gesture of control that almost made him smile.

"This is gift enough," Hephaistion said, and the solid certainty in his voice sent heat flaring under Alexander's skin, desire and shame intermingled, that he wanted Hephaistion to say that, to believe it, and that he had no gift beyond himself to give. "It always will be."

Alexander turned, then, and saw the truth of it in those wide grey eyes, lit with compassion, and perhaps a touch of rue. He cupped Hephaistion's cheek, the stubble scratching at his palm, and ran his thumb over the fine, high arch of his cheek, the sculpted bow of his upper lip.

"Yes," he said, accepting the gift in return, and drawing him close for a kiss.

end


End file.
